


Trials

by horrorsilk



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, No Smut, Shao Kahn is soft?, Short One Shot, it surprised me too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorsilk/pseuds/horrorsilk
Summary: He was eager to prove himself no matter what the cost.And he was ready to be undone should he fail.
Relationships: Ermac/Shao Kahn (Mortal Kombat)
Kudos: 15





	Trials

A maelstrom of voices, undulating and churning, throwing themselves up against his skull. No, not just his skull. Every part of him, every fiber of his physical being was bombarded by the shouts, the screams, _the agony._

He was used to it.

The voices were him. He would be nothing if they were not there. So he had harnessed their pain, their collective rage and hostility, focused it, channeled it, wielded it with deadly precision and calculated ruthlessness. One could expect no less from a creation of the dreaded Shao Kahn. 

Ermac was the result of his latest dabbling in dark magicks, the corpse of a nameless dead man reanimated to house the souls of ten thousand slaughtered Edenians. Warriors who found no solace even in death, as they were pulled from the void, stuffed into a dead thing, forced to exert their energies on behalf of a servant of the one who'd had them butchered in the first place. Every waking moment they tried to destroy their host from within, clamoring to take control of their vessel, but Ermac was no glass doll. A collective consciousness was he, and once he had learned to control the wailing voices within, none who faced him were long for this realm. Or any other, for that matter.

He had been tried and tested, with his Master presenting all manner of foe for him to face, and all of them were dispatched without hesitation or remorse. Limbs were rent, abdomens devoid of entrails, which were left to bake in the harsh Outworld sun. And Shao Kahn was pleased, and his satisfaction only made Ermac that much more determined to serve him well, no matter what that entailed.

If by his life or death he could fulfill his purpose in serving his Kahn, he would pay the price.

His Kahn.

Many knew him as cruel, ruthless, evil; and they were not wrong in those views. But to Ermac, Shao Kahn was the one who had given him life. Given him a purpose. And even though he was well aware of the oceans of blood that gushed forth from the Emperor's hands, and that much of that blood belonged to the souls that swirled in his own body, Ermac did not hate him. 

After all, how could he hate the man who made him? How could he despise Shao Kahn when he felt nothing but the eagerness to prove his devotion every time he met those burning eyes? 

It seemed he did not have long to wait to prove himself, though. Not when the Mortal Kombat tournament was set to begin. All at once the air in the Emperor's Palace had changed. There was a grim sort of anticipation. Cold and hot all at once, and Ermac, who was usually quite immune to feeling much of anything, could not help but notice his own growing apprehension. 

When Shao Kahn summoned him, however, Ermac did not delay in coming to his side, bowing deeply before his Emperor (despite the screaming protests of many of the souls housed in his flesh) and waited silently for further instructions. Shao Kahn rose to his feet, towering above the construct, fixing him with those fiery eyes that both terrified and titillated him. 

"You will go to Shang Tsung's Island to fight on behalf of myself and Outworld." As always, the Emperor's voice was low, harsh, hardly more than a growl, but Ermac nodded, remaining silent. Though to his surprise, Shao Kahn turned to face him, taking the construct's chin in his massive hand, the edge of one of his claws scraping over the bandages just below his lips. "Your victory will, of course, be richly rewarded, but I do not doubt you know what it would mean should you fail."

"We will not fail you, our Kahn." Ermac's voice was even, though he was certain that his master could smell the disquiet that oozed from his traitorous body.

"We will see."

* * *

Liu Kang, the blasted Shaolin.

Perhaps Ermac had underestimated him, so young as he looked. But despite his own training, despite the warrior souls that guided his movements, the flames and speed the Earthrealmer leveled his way caught him off guard. Rage boiled up through the legions of souls within, his mind lashing out just as much as his fists and feet, but it wasn't enough. Any blow he managed to land was rained back upon him tenfold, and before long Ermac's mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood, his vision was dark around the edges, his battered lungs unable to draw in more breath than a few shallow gasps.

A final kick directed at the side of his skull resulted in a sickening crack, bile rose in his throat, and Ermac crumpled to the ground and knew no more.

* * *

Hands sealed themselves around his throat, squeezing until he felt the vertebrae in his neck be crushed into splinters. 

Yet more hands grappled with his limbs, sharp-clawed nails raking at his flesh until it fell away from his bones in grisly ribbons.

Someone buried their fists into his stomach, pulled his entrails out inch by inch, and when there was nothing left, filled the cavity with liquid fire.

Ermac screamed, but no noise loosed from his lips, every sound he tried to make muffled by the blood and viscera he was slowly drowning in.

Every soul hammered against his ruined body, trying to fight their way out, and for a moment Ermac wondered if it might be best to die now. But then he felt as if he were being plunged into icy water, and in the shock he thought no more.

* * *

"...should have been brought to me _immediately."_

A raised voice came from somewhere close, but still sounded muffled, as if coming from the other side of a door or wall. It was familiar. He knew that voice from somewhere, even if he could not quite place it at the moment.

"My lord, there were more important matters to -"

" _Be silent, sorcerer._ And be glad I did not rend apart _your_ body to repair him."

So it was Shao Kahn, then. He sounded furious. And why would he be anything but? Ermac had failed.

Failed.

Then why did he yet live? He was certain he had died, or perhaps been killed, yet here he was. Body too heavy to move, eyes too tired to open, but alive. All this despite the fact he had been bested by the Shaolin. He should have been torn apart, blood and brains splattered up the walls. A punishment befitting of his failure. 

Shang Tsung continued to apologize, though the words did not come from a place of repentance. The sorcerer only wanted to save his own skin. As always. Ermac disliked him greatly, but it was not his place to speak against him. Of course, he could not speak at all presently. His tongue felt swollen, crammed awkwardly against the roof of his mouth, and his throat felt as if he had swallowed crushed glass. After several more moments of Shao Kahn expressing his _disappointment_ to the sorcerer, Shang Tsung was dismissed, ordered to return to his Island to oversee the remainder of the tournament. But not before the emperor swore he would crack his skull open with his own two hands should he return in such a disgraceful manner again.

And with the sorcerer's departure the room was silent. Behind his eyelids, Ermac's eyes flickered restlessly as he tried to force them open. He just wanted to see if he was alone or not, but he did not know which option would be better. But before he could take a look around, the question was answered. An impossibly large hand slid under his neck, cradling the base of his skull, and another began unwinding the bandages from his face. Ermac tensed and from above him came a rumbling chuckle he immediately recognized. 

"Our Kahn," he croaked, words painful as they left his raw throat. 

"Be quiet, Ermac." Shao Kahn finished pulling the bandages away, the air cool against the exposed skin. "And be still." 

Of course Ermac obeyed, though he still let out a soft breath when he felt a damp rag press to his face. The rag dabbed gently against his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose, blotted against his eyes. It took Ermac a moment to realize that Shao Kahn was cleaning away the blood from his face, and that the reason he had been unable to open his eyes earlier was because they were caked shut with gore. Most of it likely his own. After his face was clean, the emperor patted it dry with a cloth, and slowly Ermac opened his eyes, blinking in the light for a moment while they adjusted.

"Thank you, our Kahn," he rasped, and from above him Shao Kahn nodded.

"Your wounds have been tended to, but you will need to rejuvenate to heal fully." 

Ermac murmured in acknowledgement, and when Shao Kahn released his skull, the construct found himself saddened - if only briefly - at the loss of contact. Slowly he pulled himself into a sitting position, ignoring the sharp pain that lanced through his abdomen as he did. He was bare, save for his trousers and the bandages wound around his neck and arms, his bloody tunic cast aside in a crumpled heap. Bare feet pressed against the cold stone floor and he heaved himself up to stand, but it was only for a moment before his knees gave out, legs folding beneath him as he fell to the ground. 

Shao Kahn caught him before he crumpled completely, snarling under his breath as he lifted the construct in his massive arms. Ermac's face burned in a manner reminiscent of his battle with the Earthrealmer.

"Forgive us, our Kahn." He managed to force the apology though his throat screamed in protest.

"Do not apologize, Ermac."

"But we failed. We allowed ourselves to fall to the Earthrealmer when we should have -"

"Did I not tell you to be quiet?" Shao Kahn growled, and the construct did just that.

The emperor bore him all the way to the Soul Chamber himself, cradled in his arms like an infant, gently placing him within the maelstrom of souls. Ermac felt himself drifting off, the last thing he saw Shao Kahn's eyes gleaming out from the shadowed sockets of his helm before he slipped away once again.

* * *

Truly he did not know how long he had been in the Soul Chamber for, but Ermac awoke to the sound of Shao Kahn's voice once more, though this time it was calling his name. And gladly Ermac followed the sound of it, eyes opening to find himself in a room he did not recognize. It was dimly lit, flickering patterns of firelight on the ceiling the only means by which to see. He was laying on a bed of burgundy silks and the skins of animals he did not know the names of, and the air smelled faintly of blood and musk. A scent that, perhaps shamefully, Ermac knew as Shao Kahn.

He was in the emperor's bed, then.

Startled, Ermac sat bolt upright, aware that he was still less clothed than he usually preferred. Shao Kahn, who was sitting beside the bed, presumably waiting for him to wake again, placed a hand on the construct's chest.

"Ermac, be still. You were unconscious even after your rejuvenation cycle was completed, so I brought you here to rest."

Without a second's hesitation, Ermac protested. "We failed you, our Kahn. You should have allowed us to die. Or killed us yourself."

" _What_ did you just say?" Shao Kahn's voice was a venomous hiss.

"We failed you. And surely the emperor has no use for those who fail him."

There was no bitterness in the statement; Ermac knew his purpose, and if he could not fulfill it then what use was he in the end? Shao Kahn lifted a hand, which rested against his jaw, and Ermac waited for the snap of his neck, the nothingness that awaited him on the other side. But it never came. Instead, the emperor swept a thumb over his lips before pulling his hands away. 

"You were bested in kombat _once,_ Ermac. And from what I have been told, you fought well. You have not failed me. Not yet." Shao Kahn shook his great head. "No, the only one who has angered me is Shang Tsung. You were broken when he finally decided to have you brought back. Kitana told me he left you bleeding on the ground for nearly an hour. The insolence. You are _mine,_ Ermac, and I will see him punished for letting you suffer."

Teeth were bared and Ermac let out an involuntary sound. One that seemed to cause a shift in the emperor, who softened around the edges a bit, hands lifting up to remove his helm before they began tearing at the bandages still wrapped tightly around Ermac's arms. The fabric was shredded to ribbons, and Shao Kahn buried his face in the crook of Ermac's neck, teeth digging bluntly into the skin above his pulse. No blood was drawn, but Ermac wondered how long it would be before it was.

After all, everything the Kahn did was stained in blood. 

He was prepared to be torn to shreds, ripped apart by the Kahn's own hands. He was _not_ prepared for those hands to push on his shoulders, guiding him down until his back hit the bed and his body was covered by that of his master. It was hot and Ermac felt like he was suddenly too small for his own body; but not in the usual way, for his souls were all but silent for once, as if they all held their breath for what was to come. 

The kiss that was pressed to the corner of his lips was gentler than he might have expected. Truly Ermac had not believed the emperor was capable of any degree of gentleness, but he was being proven wrong. Shao Kahn continued to kiss slowly over the construct's jaw, up his temple, along his brow. His leathery fingers brushed over his collar to cup his face as he continued to cover Ermac's visage with the dare he say _sweet_ touch of his lips. The construct felt his cheeks warm and he murmured Shao Kahn's name, with brought the softest chuckle from his master. 

"You are destined for greater things in the future, Ermac, and I would see you succeed."

Blinking back a stinging sensation in his eyes that Ermac quickly realized was tears, he swallowed hard and managed to utter only a single word, a question.

"Why?"

Shao Kahn sat up, pulling the construct up into his lap to hold him close, the thunderous sound of his heartbeat echoing in his ears. With a sigh, Ermac let the sound soothe him, closing his softly glowing eyes and relaxing against the broad chest beneath his cheek. 

"I said it before; you are mine. Forever."

**Author's Note:**

> What should I be doing? Working on Starlight.  
> What am I doing instead? Writing a Shao/Ermac one shot because I'm sad and this pairing still makes me irrationally happy.  
> It's not even that good but I can't help it I'm gay for these two sue me.


End file.
